Glassdoor Cabinets
by Odat
Summary: If he would just move so that she could see the apartment she was hired to decorate, that would be great.


So this happened. It was a prompt that I found and absolutely had to write. And then it turned into this monster.

* * *

"First, I would like to make it very clear, I did not ask for this."

Maka sighed and wondered if her client realized he was literally standing in the doorway like a barricade. "I'm fully aware Mr. Evans," to which he muttered under his breath that "Mr. Evans is my father" and she ignored him, "but your mother paid for my services and I do not intend on letting her money go to waste." Which, made it sound like she was there for something she wasn't. Honest. "Now, if you would let me in? I can see what I have to work with." she said as calmly as she could.

He finally moved out of the door to let her take her first real look at the apartment. It was sparely furnished (no wonder Celeste had called so alarmed after her impromptu visit with her son), the air was impersonal and hardly lived in, and overall it felt not only bland but lonely. But, she had worked with much worse; the light streaming in from the windows was beautiful, the hardwood floor practically glowed, and spiral staircase that left to the loft style bedroom was charming. It just needed more life. And a few good oriental rugs.

"I can work with this. Do you find yourself collecting things? Or do you prefer a more out of sight, out of mind philosophy? What would you like to highlight? Any colors you're drawn to? Or any that you really find yourself avoiding?" Maka started going though the list of her typical questions as she walked around the apartment. The kitchen was going to be the easier, it just needed a few good barstools. It was the living room that was going to be the main challenge. She really hoped he had a bed at at the very least, a mattress.

When she finally looked back, Mr. Evans (he hadn't told her to call him Soul, so she would continue to refer to him properly even though his mother insisted she should call him Soul) was pale and gaping at her.

Different tactic then.

"Show me where you like to sit?" She watched his expression change from abject terror to mild concern, but eventually he gestured to a beautiful leather wingback chair in the corner nearest the sliding door to the small balcony.

So he liked the natural light and the sky. They were only four stories up, but he had a good view of the sky and the park below. The chair was well loved, a deep rich mahogany color that was faded to a chestnut in some areas and stained in other to a much deeper almost pinot noir. Not that he would know the nuances between any of those colors, she thought.

He straightened a few of the records on the table next to the chair, obviously self conscious of her scrutinizing his space. Private then as well. "It was my grandfather's before he passed away." Ah, but willing to open up. Glassdoor cabinets then for storage. So you could see what was in them. Maka made a note.

"It's beautiful, we can make that a highlight and decorate around it. Would that work for you, Mr. Evans?" Her mind was going a million miles a minute already planning on the antiques she could buy (a claw footed table was an obvious addition), the art that would do well with the light, keeping in mind the colors as well as the more modern sensibilities of the kitchen-

"I'd like that. A lot actually. Call me Soul."

It startled her a little, and she glanced up at him from the precise notes she had been jotting down. Maka found herself smiling at him, "Wonderful. We can do that. I know your mother hired me, but I am working for you. The point is to make this your home and for you to be comfortable in it."

Soul nodded slowly, it was clear to her that he was still fairly certain that his mother was actually the one with final say. She would prove to him that it could not be farther from the truth. But, that was for later down the road when he trusted her more.

When she had started interior design, sure she had expected the color theory and endless readings on natural light in a room and how shadows affected everything, but she'd never expected it to be so much about trust. She found that was the most rewarding part of it for her.

"What else do you love in this apartment?"

And he lit up like a Christmas tree when he glanced over at the spiral staircase. Oh yes, she certainly could work with this.

* * *

Soul had already vetoed half of her original ideas but she was going to fight hard for the fairy lights wrapped around the center pole of the spiral staircase.

"No! That's super girly!"

"There is nothing wrong with girly or things traditionally associated with girls! And how are lights, that will draw the eye to the staircase, as well as serve a very practical use, a bad thing?" Maka shot back. They were sitting on the floor (he had also vetoed all of the couches she had found but had finally managed to articulate that he didn't want a leather couch, that the arms needed to be rounded so that it was comfortable to nap on, and that it couldn't be too "poofy" as he put it), eating Chinese take out, and still going over her first draft sketches.

He grumbled and managed to stuff an entire crab rangoon into his mouth before biting down ferociously. Well, it would have been ferocious if they weren't arguing about fairy lights. "They're gay."

Maka swatted the back of his head. "Considering you don't mean that in happy sense; rude."

The completely bewildered look he gave her was priceless, but Maka had learned (primarily through her childhood friend Black Star) that sometimes violence was the answer. Especially in the name of love or education and political correctness.

"Fine! They aren't cool!" He snagged the shrimp tempura that had come with her meal (and immediately put on his plate) and crunched into that next, daring her to argue otherwise.

Which, in the case of fairy lights, she would do. "Let me do it so that you can see them, Worst case, you don't like it, we take it down, I get fairy lights." Soul just grumbled more and then winced when he bit into the tail of the shrimp. "That's what I thought. Now what color couch are we aiming for?"

The dining room table had just arrived, so of course Maka was there to oversee its placement. The key Soul had pressed into her palm felt oddly heavy, more so than any other key a client had given her. It slid deftly into the lock and turned with a solid clank that felt like coming home. Maka shook the feeling off and opened the door for the delivery men.

"It's going against the white washed brick wall, no not that! Yes the other wall, thank you. You assemble it too, correct? Good, if you don't mind. Can I get you any water?" The two men thanked her but waved her off and began unpacking the table. It was a beautiful piece that Soul had actually found himself and it went brilliantly with the combination of minimalist and antique furniture they'd been acquiring.

Soul was at work and wouldn't be back until later, so Maka set about wrapping the fairy lights around the spiral stair case. Which apparently translated to unwinding the spool of lights and working out very delicate little knots where the wire had gotten snagged on itself. But by the time she was done and it was lit up, she was sure that Soul would love it.

She snapped a quick picture and sent it to Celeste to show her. The response was instantaneous and elated. Maka had worked extensively with the Evans matriarch and while she could be difficult at times, she was a delight in the end. It was also very clear that Soul got his stubbornness from his mother.

"Why is my door- oh, is that the table?"

"Yup! Sorry, I let them in." Maka called from the other side of the apartment. He was home early, good thing she had finished the lights quickly. "Come look!"

His footsteps were muffled over the rugs that can come in as well (beautiful complex orientals in deep reds and blues that still made her giddy when she looked at them), "Why do I get a bad feeling you're by the staircase?"

"Oh shush and come see, Soul." Maka said while standing proudly next to her work. "Ta da! See, very cool!" She pulled her best Vanna White impression and gestured to the lights when Soul finally came into view.

He titled his head (a good sign! A head tilt meant consideration!) and opened his mouth once but shut it. Tilted his head to the other side and again opened his mouth but shut it once more. Finally he sighed. Maka beamed, the lights were staying.

"They look cool, you were right."

* * *

This was the fifth furniture store they had been to on their quest for a couch. For the day, not total. Maka had lost count of how many stores they had actually been to. Soul had been adamant that he would not, absolutely could not, and would never in his life, be persuaded to buy a couch online.

"I need to sit on it and then lay on it to make sure that it's comfortable! You're always telling me that I need to imagine living with each piece for the next five to ten years," he pitched his voice higher in a poor imitation of her own. "So I need to sit on it." Soul had folded his arms over his chest and that was that.

That had been nearly a month ago and the couch was one of the last crucial pieces that the apartment needed. The rest was really cosmetic and waiting for a few more of the pieces they had already ordered to be delivered (namely the glassdoor cabinets, she was pissed that they had been back ordered but not listed as such when she placed the order).

Maka again listed off what he wanted for the couch, "Not leather, but that is a possibility. If leather, no tufts. If cloth, it cannot be white. Which, fair point, I agree. Three seater, but a sectional could work too. If it is a sectional, it must have a chaise section and the corner piece must be a single unit." She gave him a dirty look, "It has to have arms that are rounded, but not too high. Pillows need to be removable and washable, but you won't tell me the story behind that, because that is a very sensible thing for you to know. Am I missing anything else?" She was tempted to tack on "King of the Impossible Couch" but decided to save that for the next store if there was a next store (she really hoped there wasn't a next store).

"I'll know it when I see it, okay? Promise." He'd been saying the same thing for the last two weeks. The first two weeks has been 'It can't be that hard to find the couch I want!" Oh, how wrong he realized he was.

Normally, her Saturdays were filled with antiquing or reading quietly in her own little (very well curated and collected if she did say so herself!) apartment. But, for the last month, she'd had a date with Soul to help him find his (possibly nonexistent) couch.

Admittedly, couch hunting with Soul was easily the most fun she had ever had with a client. Hell, she found that she had to actively remind herself that he was her client and not her friend. Well, they were friends, but it had sort of seemed like, well. She tried not to dwell on it too much. His mother had hired her to decorate his apartment. That was all.

Plus, she had her own baggage to deal with. She would finish the apartment and move on.

"What about this one?" Soul was sprawled out across one of the most hideous couches she was sure she had ever seen (and over the past month she had seen some real eye sores). He burst out laughing at her expression of disgust.

"Get off of that, you probably have some sort of disease now." She waved dismissively at the general area of the couch which just made Soul snicker. "Vile, disgusting pattern, who thought that was a good idea?!"

"Aw, you mean you don't like it?" Soul asked when he tried to extract himself from the over stuffed cushions. "I think it's trying to eat me."

"I think I might just let it." But she grinned and offered him a hand to help pull him out of the depth of velvet yellow mustard couch hell. He took her hand but didn't let her take too much of his weight when he finally managed to pull himself out of the couch. "Ugh, now I've caught whatever you got that sorry excuse of furniture."

"Oh! What about this one!?" He pulled her towards an even uglier hot pink sectional, tripped over the display stand, and barreled head first into the couch pulling Maka along with him into an avalanche of bubblegum pink pillows.

They were tangled together so completely she had no clue which legs where hers, who's hair was in her mouth, or what had happened. Just that they were under pillows that seemed to glow they were so bright, and his face was right in front of hers. "I... You found a couch that really did eat us!" And she burst out laughing until tears were streaming from her eyes.

Soul started to laugh as well and each time they looked at each other after regaining some composure, they started to laugh all over again. They must have looked a sight, extremities sticking out from some Barbie doll sectional, pile of pillows shaking with muffled laughter, it was dumb luck an employee didn't come by and kick them out of the store.

Still chuckling, as gently as he could, Soul brushed her tears away and smiled at her. Maka froze. He was close enough that she could feel his breath on her lips and even through the pink light the pillows were casting on his face, she could see the dusting of freckles across his cheeks. For once, she found herself at a loss. Soul licked his lips and suddenly hers felt quite dry as well.

"Maka," he said, barely a whisper.

She pulled away, "You need to find you a couch."

They rearranged the pink hideousness of the couch as best they could without looking at each other and both jumped like they had been electrocuted when their fingers brushed.

Soul was much more reserved and only sat on couches that met his standards, but even Maka could see that with how stiff he was, no couch would be comfortable.

They didn't find a couch for his apartment. They didn't make plans for the next couch hunting trip. Maka declined his usual offer to take her out to lunch that had become part of their Saturdays.

She spend Sunday alone curled up in her reading chair staring listlessly at her book.

* * *

"Ah, hey Maka, it's me. Soul, I mean. But you know that, caller ID, god damn it. Look those glass cabinets got here, but the guys didn't put them together and the instructions are in German and I'm really rusty, but ah... I'm sorry. End of voicemail. If you would like to replay this message-" She honestly hadn't meant to miss his call. Not that she was avoiding him. Actually, she hadn't heard a word from him in over a week.

It had been a long week, Maka hadn't realized just how much time they'd been spending together until she had her days to herself again. It was strange to be back in her own apartment after spending so much time in his. She'd taken down her own fairy lights after only two days of being home.

She could just call her go to handymen to go and take care of the glass door cabinets, but that seemed like the coward's way out. And Maka Albarn was no coward. At least, usually. Apparently when faced with a man that might be interested in her, she was. Except it was more that she was terrified that she was just as interested in him.

Most of her week of solitude had been spent going back and forth between ignoring her own feelings and any desire to examine them, or wallowing in them and how she had possibly managed to royally fuck up something good. It was a fine line and usually involved a glass or two (or half a bottle) of wine.

But, she had a job to finish. That needed to be addressed first.

Maka sent off a quick text to Soul asking for a time and date, and received an almost immediate response that he was free whenever or now. Steeling herself, Maka confirmed that she would be there in an hour.

The key slid into the lock and just like the first time she used it, hearing it clank open felt like coming home. She waved the thought away as best she could and walked into the apartment.

Which was in utter chaos. Panels were everywhere, along with shelves, packaging materials, what looked like multiple instruction manuals, and an assortment of tools. "Soul?"

"Oh shit!" There was a rustling and he appeared from inside of a very large box covered in packing peanuts. "Hi! Fuck, hey... Maka." He was standing and the box came up to his waist, everything past that had little green styrofoam peanuts clinging to him with a vast majority in his hair. "If I understood the German manual, there is supposedly an English manual, or at least an Italian one, but I cannot for the life of me find it. So I thought it might still be in the box?"

Still somewhat shocked to see him looking quite so absurd, Maka began to giggle despite herself. Soul just sighed and offered her a weak grin as he tried to brush the packing peanuts off of him with little success.

"Get out of the box, Soul, it's alright; I have a few guys who can put this together for you without any instructions. Promise."

"Thank god, I was half afraid I was going to either build it backwards and upside down or break something. No judging me for how I am about to get out of this box either." He pointed at her and gave her his best serious face, but it was somewhat ruined when a peanut fell out of his hair. Soul just sighed and through a complicated series of skipping, hopping, and what might have been a pirouette, managed to climb out of the box sending packing peanuts flying everywhere.

"Damn things, going to be finding them for months."

"I'll help," Maka said. She was already moving to the kitchen to grab the roll of trash bags from under the kitchen sink before she had thought twice about it. His apartment felt like a natural extension of herself, she felt at home in it, which wasn't at all proper. This was supposed to be his space, not hers.

She began to pick up the stragglers while Soul shoveled handfuls back into the box. "Do you like the place so far, Soul? I mean, does it feel like home?" Maka avoided looking at him and diligently kept her head down.

There was a pause before he answered, "Yeah. It does." But he didn't elaborate further than that. They cleaned up the remaining packing peanuts in silence.

Before she left she arranged for the handymen to build the glassdoor cabinets and then added, "Couch hunting on Saturday?" And watched some of the tension ease from Soul's shoulders.

"Sounds perfect."

* * *

Despite reminding herself over and over again that she had no reason to be nervous, that this was just Soul, that they had done this for over a month now, she still had the jitters and kept thinking of it as some sort of date. Which it wasn't! It was couch hunting! She and Soul were finally mostly back to normal, she had even gone to his place for dinner the other night to celebrate the dining room being complete!

They had ordered their typical Chinese take out (Maka ignored the fact that they actually had a typical order) and they went over the final details, any last accents, if he really did like the curtains or not.

The curtain comment earned her an eye roll accompanied with a "I don't care, you say they look good, and you like them, so they must be good. They work, that's what I care about."

She had even been able to help him arrange his record collection (she didn't even try to understand how he had them organized), the books that he had, and finally some of the knickknacks that he had collected in the glassdoor cabinets. "You don't have to fill them up, having space is a good thing, it lets things breathe." Maka reminded him for probably the hundredth time.

"Looks kind of sparse, everything looks small and lonely."

"Well, you can always buy more books." she said.

It was the couch that was the hold up.

The god damn impossible couch! She was tempted to discuss ordering a custom couch with Celeste, who was footing the bill, but that would push them way over budget.

"I have a good feeling about this store." Soul told her as they walked in together.

They enjoyed walking through the place, yet again, Soul making a hobby of horrifying Maka with the ugliest furniture he could possibly find and Maka coming up with clever insults to each piece. He did get her to laugh so hard she snorted at an absolutely atrocious glass sculpture with a SOLD sticker on it.

"Maka, Maka I need it."

"Soul, put it down." It was a lot like shopping with a five year old, Maka decided.

"You didn't even look at what it is!" Soul whined, actually whined at her. "I need this as the centerpiece to my apartment! It's crucial!"

"What in the hell-" when she finally turned and looked at him, she lost it. He was holding a truly terrible glass sculpture of a butterfly that actually had the word "Beauty!" carefully painted across the base.

Soul was beaming, 'It's it great!? I need ten!"

Maka turned around to avoid looking at him but couldn't get the image out of her head and ended up laughing all over again. "Oh my god, Soul, that's terrible! Put that down!"

"Hell no, this is coming home and I'm buying that ugly yellow couch that tried to eat me last time and the apartment will be complete." He sounded so sure, Maka actually looked at him, concerned that he was serious. Which of course made him laugh that she actually fell for it. "Oh come on, you know I wouldn't, just need this damn couch and it'll finally be home."

She was tempted to smack his arm but settled on grinning at him, "So lets go find the damn couch already!"

They made it to the living room section without too many more incidents, but Soul did manage to get serious as soon as they came to the leather sectionals. "I think, if we can find something that goes with the chair." he trailed off, running his fingers over the smooth leather of one of the arms to a blue couch.

"Here are the available color swatches, and we can take any of them home that you want to check against the chair."

"That one." He was weaving between couches to a very dark brown leather sofa with a tufted ottoman, a chaise section, and a corner that was a single piece. "This is my couch." Soul said grinning like he'd just won the lottery.

Maka gave him a look, "Soul."

"No, see! It's perfect. Here, come sit down!" He sat in each seat, reclined gracefully on the chaise (and of course added, "draw me like one of your French girls") and finally lay across the whole thing with his head on the arm rest. "This is my couch. It's perfect. Come sit!" He sat back up and patted the seat next to him.

"The ottoman has tufts." Maka said as she picked her way over.

"I kinda like them."

"It's leather." Maka tried again when she finally sat down. It really was comfortable and she let herself relax into the couch. "It does have your chaise and the corner piece. Do you like the color?"

Soul leaned back and stretched his arms out behind her on the back of the couch. "It's perfect. Do you like it? Will it fit with the rest of the apartment?" he asked, almost sounding nervous.

"It's a beautiful piece, classic, but modern, the color is right in there with the palette you chose, I think it will make the place feel like a home. You found your couch, congratulations." Her job was done and it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

They sat in silence for a few moment watching other shoppers walk by on the main path. "It only feels like home when you're there too, Maka." Soul said it so quietly she nearly missed it.

She turned enough to look at him, then shifted closer so that she was pressed up against his side and smiled at him. "Every time I turn the key to open your door, it feels like coming home. But I think that's because I look forward to seeing you on the other side." It wasn't hard at all to gently push herself up and lay a soft kiss against his lips.

It wasn't until an employee cleared her throat and asked if they required any assistance, did they stop trading small kisses back and forth. Soul proudly proclaimed that he would take the couch and how soon could it be delivered?

Oh, and did they have any more of those glass butterflies? Maka giggled and smacked his chest.

* * *

"There, now the selves don't look so lonely." Maka said as she finished unpacking her last box.

Soul just groaned from where he was laying across the still new couch. "Of course they don't, we just filled them with every book ever written! Seriously, what happened to breathing room?" He shot her a glare as best he could without moving positions.

She had been impressed at just how well their taste complimented each other, the furniture that she had brought with her was all pale and warm and modern, and it fit between his more antique and dark pieces. It felt like home.

Maka just grinned and admired the glassdoor cabinets, now filled with books, records, and both of their knickknacks. She sat down next to Soul and pulled his head into her lap so she could run her fingers through his hair. There was still plenty of breathing room throughout the shelves, but no, they certainly didn't look lonely anymore. Leaning down, she placed a kiss to Soul's forehead.


End file.
